


o many a day have i made good ale in the glen

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Sterek Campaign, homoeroticismforthewin, lydia/stiles friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 21:13:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another <i>snap</i> that has a piece of the gum flying forward and hitting Stiles on the cheek. Lydia watches as he squawks and flails and nearly topples out of the chair. “You want me to help you get a guy.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	o many a day have i made good ale in the glen

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s my first Sterek Campaign result! It ended up at about 1700 words, which is only a bit over the allotted 1000. This is for Sandra (aka homoeroticismforthewin) and I most certainly hope this fulfills your requirements of Stanny and Stiles/Lydia friendship!
> 
> Enjoy~
> 
> (Title comes from a Jeremiah Joseph Callanan poem)
> 
> ~
> 
> Unbeta’d, all mistakes totes my fault.

Lydia looks up with a well timed  _snap_  of her bubble gum as Stiles clambers into the seat in front of her. She gives him her best, most practiced, most honestly ridiculous unimpressed stare until he caves and starts to chatter crazily. “So, there’s this guy I like. And I thought, gee, who knows a lot about guys? Not that I’m implying anything negative about your sexual experiences or the number of them or anything, it’s your body and you do what you want with it, but you really seem to have Jackson by the balls so I figure you probably have a better grasp on man’s psyche more than man himself so I figured, why not ask you? Right?”

Another  _snap_  that has a piece of the gum flying forward and hitting Stiles on the cheek. Lydia watches as he squawks and flails and nearly topples out of the chair. “You want me to help you get a guy.”

Stiles rights himself and catches his breath. “Yes.”

“What do I get out of it?”

“See your good ol’ buddy Stiles happy and not alone anymore?” Stiles pitches, grinning and batting his eyes and mostly managing to look rather manic. Lydia shoves a hand against his face and pushes the expression away.

“I want Jackson to stop ripping up my panty hose because of his stupid claws.”

Stiles’ throat clicks. “Uh, I’m not so sure I can help with that.”

“You helped Scott.” Lydia points out, popping in another piece of gum.

“Yeah but I like Scott.”

Lydia raises a pointed eyebrow. “It’s not Scott, is it?”

Stiles’ face contorts instantly, and he drops his head to hit the table with a resounding thud. “No, no no no no. That’s so much no I can’t even begin to can.”

Lydia rolls her eyes. “Tell Jackson he either learns to control his nails or I’m cutting his fingers off.”

“Why can’t you tell him?” Stiles asks, head still mashed in defeat against the table.

“It’ll be funnier to watch you do it.”

Stiles groans, but holds out his hand which Lydia very daintily takes in a firm shake.

)

“Uh, Stiles.”

“Yeah dad?” Stiles calls out from where he’s very specifically situated on the couch—in loose fitting sweats, no boxers, and an old t shirt of his dad’s.

“You have a guest.”

Stiles groans. “Tell Scott to go away.”

Silence ensues, aside from his dad wishing him goodbye, so Stiles assumes the coast is clear and takes a moment to scratch his balls undisturbed.

“Honestly.”

He grips them so hard, one wrong move and he would’ve ripped them right off. Stiles turns his head to see Lydia standing behind the couch, arms crossed and lips pursed.

“Not Scott.” She taunts, gesturing to the skirt flitting about her knees.

“Yeah I can see that.” Stiles scrambles to take up as little room on the couch as possible, as well as to conceal his half-hard cock that’s painfully apparent in these sweats.

“Anyways, I brought  _The Notebook_  because it’s excellent for brainstorming, and we need to do a lot of brainstorming.” Lydia tells him, moving on her own to start the movie before sitting primly on the couch with her legs crossed underneath her. “So, first off,” she asks as she presses play, “who is it?”

Stiles gulps and fiddles with a fraying string on the couch. “Uh.”

Lydia’s eyes narrow. “Danny.”

Stiles screeches. “How do you do that?! It’s not  _normal_!”

Lydia actually laughs and allows the high and mighty facade to drop for a moment. “It’s obvious. You can’t keep your eyes off him in AP Chemistry.”

Stiles flushes bright pink and keeps his hands in his lap. “Yeah.”

Lydia smiles and reaches out to pat his hand. “This is going to be a piece of cake.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, now hush and watch a master at work.”

Stiles stares at Lydia until she snaps her fingers and directs him to the TV—to  _The Notebook_.

)

Stiles shifts uncomfortably. His jeans are too tight, his shirt is too tight, his hoodie is too big, his face itches and his shoes are gonna get soaked because it’s fucking  _pissing_  rain. He casts a look at Lydia, who looks fabulous as always, and she shoots him a wink in return. Stiles is just getting out of his Jeep when his phone vibrates.

**New Message From: Lydia**

_You look great. Flaunt it._

Exasperated, Stiles hunches over his phone to tap out a response.

**New Message To: Lydia**

_No_

He gets a reply back and ignores it in favor of rushing into the school along with his classmates, all splashing and dripping and shivering. He hurries to his locker, wiping endless droplets of water from his eyes as he reaches blindly for his AP Chemistry book and a few extra pens.

“Stiles?”

He brains himself on the door to his locker and collapses inside, cracking his jaw against the flashlight in there. “Yeah?” He very carefully turns to see an equally soaked Danny looking at him, amused. “Oh. Hey.”

“Nice outfit.” Danny grins at him, confident but still achingly adorable. _Dimples_ , man, motherfucking dimples. Danny turns and waves and leaves, heading in Jackson and Lydia’s direction.

Stiles slumps against his locker with a grin so wide it hurts. Or maybe that’s just his recent head injuries.

)

The next day starts off better—less rain, zero head injuries—except that the look Danny gives him is calculated and not at all flirty. So Stiles takes initiative. As Jackson, Lydia, and Danny gather at their usual spot in the mornings, Stiles marches up and inserts himself into the conversation.

“What’s hip-hop-happening, guys?”

Jackson shoots him a dirty look, but Lydia turns to him with a grin and Danny has the most brief of smiles on his face.

“Not much, just talking about the winter annual.” Lydia’s eyes spark. “It’s coming up fast.”

“You and Jackson will no doubt be the best dressed people in attendance, followed closely by Danny.” Stiles makes broad, confident gestures, and shoots a grin in Danny’s direction. He pinks, and Stiles relishes the sight.

“What about you?” Lydia asks as if she doesn’t already know.

Stiles shrugs. “I might just go stag. See what happens.”

The attention turns to Danny when Jackson barks out the most unfriendly ‘what about you’ Stiles has ever heard.

Danny shrugs, as well. “I dunno. I wasn’t sure if I was gonna go.”

Stiles’ heart drops.

Lydia coo’s. “Don’t let that asshole get you down. You should go! Have fun!”

“High school winter annuals is not where I go if I want to have fun, Lydia.” There’s a glint in his eyes that’s all lust and heat, and Stiles feels tragically hot under the collar because of it. He swallows, mouth dry. “I don’t think I’ll go. It just seems kind of lame.”

The bell rings, forcing them to part, and leaving Stiles to think.

)

“So,” Stiles rolls onto his stomach and dog-ears a page of  _Moby Dick_ , “what’s the deal with Danny? Who’s the asshole he shouldn’t let get him down?”

There;s the familiar scritching of Lydia filing her nails before she answers. “His most recent ex. Total jerk off, some douchebag who thought he was hot stuff because he was a frat boy.” She blows on her nails and makes a pleased noise. “Danny caught him sleeping with a  _girl_. It was ridiculous.”

Stiles sighs. “He was probably super hot, though.”

“So?”

“So I’m not super hot. I’m like gangly, giraffe-adorable on my best days.”

“Self0depracating doesn’t suit you, stop that.” Lydia huffs in his ear. “You’re hot. Especially with your hair. I know for a fact Danny likes your hair. I mean, I think he’s always liked it, but he likes this, too.”

Stiles meeps. “Really?”

“Really.” Lydia snaps. “He doesn’t like the tight shirts, though. So ditch them.”

“I spent my entire last paycheck on tight shirts!”

“Give them to Erica or something, she likes those things. Or Scott.”

Stiles makes a contemplative noise. “He does like tight shirts.” Stiles stares at his pillow in confusion. “I’ve never noticed, but it’s really true.”

)

The winter annual is a week away, and Danny has resolutely declared he’s not going.

Stiles even makes bambi eyes at him, but Danny stands his ground.

“I just want to wear my baggiest, comfiest pajamas, eat two pints of ice cream, and watch high schoolers get slaughtered by creeps in masks.”

Stiles internally swoons.

)

“Just do it. No one is going to miss you.”

Stiles yanks off the tie. He looks at Jackson. “Gee, thanks bud. You sure know how to support a friend.”

“We’re not friends.” He barks, bristling. “But. Danny likes you.” Jackson clears his throat awkwardly. “He’s just not sure.”

“That he likes me?”

“That you like him.”

Stiles nods, and Jackson grabs his shoulder.

“Don’t fuck this up Stilinski.”

Stiles salutes and hits Jackson in the nose and bolts before he can be attacked. He all but leaps into his Jeep and high tails it out of the Whittemore driveway. He looks sort of ridiculous, in bright red Converse All Stars and a suit, unbuttoned jacket and no tie. He speed-demons it to Danny’s house, just in time to catch a car pulling out of the driveway and watch the front door shut.

He whips into the spot and kills the engine; he topples out of the car and when he’s standing, Danny has the front door open again. True to his word, Danny is in pajama pants and a large t shirt, with a pint of ice cream in each hand, gripping a spoon between his lips.

Stiles jogs up the porch steps to the door and grins. “Hey.” He plucks the spoon from Danny’s lips.

“Hey.” Danny’s eyes are wide, and he takes a step back, letting enough room for Stiles to step inside. “Aren’t you going to the annual?”

“Nah. It’s not really my idea of fun, anyways.”

Danny lights up, a small and private smile in place. “Yeah?”

Stiles nods. “Yeah.” He leans forward and catches Danny’s lips in a kiss that’s easy and gentle and sweet. Danny returns the pressure and licks the seam of Stiles’ lips before pulling back. “Way more fun.”

Danny snorts against his face. “You’re such a dork.”

Stiles preens.


End file.
